


Art of Hi-Jinks

by Accidentallytechohazardous



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cliche, F/F, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:00:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3146789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accidentallytechohazardous/pseuds/Accidentallytechohazardous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The two of you are certainly a sight.” Dr. Scratch says in a pleasant tone, the way he might be conferring about an interesting art piece rather than two bloodied teenage girls. “In the future, I expect you both to make better decisions than to engage in fist-fights on school grounds. It’s quite the liability for the school’s insurance, you know.”</p>
<p>
You actually feel a little bad. Not for punching Vriska, you were totally okay for that. You felt bad because they were going to call your dad, and then he’d want to know why and then he’d show you videos of Mr. Slick when he’s had a few too many as evidence of the dangers that uncontrolled rage can pose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art of Hi-Jinks

**Author's Note:**

> I'm clearing out my tumblr and had it suggested to me that I post some of my old Homestuck fanfics on Ao3. This was written about three years ago. Jesus.

Detention is, much like space, the final frontier. Whether you are a major offender in the treacherous art of hooky or just forgot your gym uniform, prepare to lose your soul to that accursed room. And, as is the natural order of things, everyone ends up in detention sooner or later.

Skaia Prep High’s detention is held in room 341, and consists of the largest room in the entire building. Or, at least, its set to appear that way, given the cavernous space between each desk for maximum isolation. The room is stuffy with one ventilation shaft that doesn’t ventilate whatsoever and there’s a part in the floor tiles that are uneven which is ridiculously irritating. You shouldn’t care because they’re just tiles on the floor but there they are, mocking you with their individuality. And lack of organization.

Teachers battle to the death over who has to serve detention. Threats were made. Tears were shed. Blood was spilt. It’s a dangerous affair, so nine out of ten times Dr. Scratch, the vice principle will oversee detention. Less stabbing has resulted this way.

Normally Dr. Scratch really creeps you out- he creeps everyone out, okay! –but today bless his little fluorescent green suit for keeping Serket on the opposite side of the room from you. Vriska is seated across the room from you on your left side, where you get an appreciative view of the violet, puffy bruise blossoming over her eight-fold eye. That’s gonna stick around for a while, you can already tell, and not even her stupid blue eye-liner is going to be able to cover up that shiner.

She notices you looking a gives you a nasty sneer. Just looking at the way her mouth curl makes your own split lip sting even harder. There’s a distinct possibility that the metallic taste in your mouth is your own sticky blood still oozing from your lip. You can be sure because it still hurts like a bitch from where her knuckles collided with your face.

“The two of you are certainly a sight.” Dr. Scratch says in a pleasant tone, the way he might be conferring about an interesting art piece rather than two bloodied teenage girls. “In the future, I expect you both to make better decisions than to engage in fist-fights on school grounds. It’s quite the liability for the school’s insurance, you know.”

You actually feel a little bad. Not for punching Vriska, you were totally okay for that. You felt bad because they were going to call your dad, and then he’d want to know why and then he’d show you videos of Mr. Slick when he’s had a few too many as evidence of the dangers that uncontrolled rage can pose.

While you were lost in memories of questionably obtained grainy pub security footage, Dr. Scratch has been continuing his scolding. “… And I hope that the two of you young ladies will ruminate that on your time here while I am attending to Headmistress Peixes’s notifications.” Wait, he’s leaving? Scratch exits the room casually, leaving you and her alone.

It’s quiet for all of almost ten minutes- eight minutes, to be precise.

“Well, well, well,” Vriska drawls, “Welcome to the Real Life Breakfast Club, Megido! You should apply for permanent membership. We’re getting club jackets embroidered.” “Can you just not talk to me right now? Thanks.” Is the terse reply, accompanied by an impatient drumming of fingers on the desk.

“Concentrating on the task at hand? That’s the spirit! Good to see you're finally useful for something.”

You knew she was going to be difficult. Surprise is not even an option at this point. You sigh, “The task of ignoring you? Yes, it is quite a task.”

Vriska grins, flipping back her unkempt mane. “The task of escaping from the dreaded terror-dungeons of detention, of course!”

It's hard not to groan, “We’re already in trouble for beating up each other, now you want my help so that we can break out of detention and get in even more trouble? ... Actually. Yeah, that sounds about right for you.”

“Don’t be such a downer, Aradia. It’s the last period of the day, and Scratch never comes back before school ends. We’ll be suuuuuuuuper sneaky! Trust me, I’ve done this looooooooads of times!”

“So go without me. Since you’ve done it ‘looooooooads of times’ I don’t see why you want me to come with you.” You snap and your patience is all but entirely worn. Does she seriously think the two of you are in some quirky sitcom where everything works out if she keeps trying to bullshit her way around everything? Yes. Yes she does, because she's Vriska Serket.

“Where’s the fun in evading the authorities without a sidekick to back me up?” Vriska responded, as if this was perfectly logical, “Plus with your freak abilities, this’ll go much faster.”

She gets up to stand on top of her desk and points to the only vent in the room, “You can tele-kinesis-ify that thing off, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m not going to-“ You argue, but she just rolls her swollen eye and hops confidentially from one desk to the next, which you’re sure can’t be safe. Once she’s standing in front of the vent, she procures a screwdriver from… somewhere. Possibly her nigh non-existent cleavage. You can’t be sure. She unscrews the vent cover in record time. Maybe she really IS an expert at this.

“Last call, Megido, or else the party train is leaving the station and she ain’t coming back!”

You look at the classroom door where Scratch left, then at Vriska, standing proudly and ready to break out. You decide this room’s mind-numbing void of happiness is causing temporary delusions and stand up from your desk.

“Glad to have you aboard, first mate Megido.” Vriska announces. She climbs down from the desk, and gestures you to take the first plunge, “Ladies first.”

“I’ll do you one better, Captain.” You shoot back with ease, focusing your powers on your entire body. You glow a faint, dark red and float to the ceiling as easy as if you were swimming through water. Beneath you, you hear Vriska mutter something like, “Show-off tele-kintetics” as you slip into the vent.

\- - 

“Did you just touch my butt?” 

“What? No way!”

“Well I felt something just touch my butt and it obviously wasn’t _me_ so that leaves us with one other option.”

"Why would I touch your butt now of all possible times?"

"It's a very nice butt."

“Aradia, we’re crawling through an air vent shaft. It’s dusty and cramped and gross. If there was ever a time to put the moves on you, I don’t think the time is now.”

“There! you just did it again, but this time it was my leg.”

“Megido there is noooooooothing there- HOLYFUCKINGCHRIST!”

“What? What?”

“Th-that thing! Right by your hand!”

“Huh? Oh, hey! Its just a little rat. Fella must have brushed up against my leg. Geeze, I didn’t think this school has any rats living in it. We're really not up to code.”

“Oh God, don’t touch it!”

“Chill out, Vriska, I’m not. Jeeze, for someone so obsessed with spiders, you’re pretty squeamish to freak out with on little rat.”

“I’m not squeamish! Spiders are just way more awesome than a disgusting rat.”

“Aww, lookit! She’s got a family!”

“AAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE”

“SHUT UP! For someone who orchestrated this escape plan you’re really itching to get us caught, aren’t you.”

\- - 

Later, Vriska claimed that your mission through the ventilation shaft was successful because she had “Aaaaaaaall the luck. All of it”. You insisted that with all of Vriska’s screaming, the fact that you weren’t both caught was nothing short of a miracle.

Vriska proved to know more or less what she was doing. She barked out directions at each turn with no hesitation and you only had to go back around a few times. That was annoying. Finally, this time in a hushed whisper, she gave you the order to stop.

“We should be near the west gym.” Vriska whispers, “If its empty, we can sneak out and be home-free with half-an-hour left to spare as we please!” More like an hour, at this point, but whatever.

“’If’ its empty!?” You growl, to which Vriska just rolls her eyes again. Watching the eight-fold swivel around like that makes you dizzy, frankly.

“It’ll totally be empty, Just a sec.” She maneuvers herself around, finding an open vent grate that she could peer through. Deciding the coast was clear, the blue-blood solidly places her foot on the grate and kicks with a clang. Not only is it far too loud, but the grate shakes only slightly. Does this stop her from careening back from a second kick? No. 

“Just let me do it!” You interject before she can get you both suspended, and raise one glowing hand. You, of course, overestimate the power it took, because instead of just neatly falling off the grate launches itself ten feet down the hallway. It's spectacularly stupid.

“Niiiiiiiice.”

“Shush.”

After floating down to the ground in safety, you help Vriska shimmy out of the vent without hurting herself. The two of you rushed to the west gym, wary to appear casual and purposeful to any occupants of open classroom doors that might spot you. You round the corner first to the gym, only to have it explode open in your face and narrowly avoid getting stampeded like ram-shaped roadkill. Vriska yanks you off to the side before you can get trampled by gym students or worse- be spotted by the gym teacher. Serket continues her daring rescue by pulling the two of you into the janitor’s closet just in time to miss the sizable herd of a gym class stomping through.

So. Here the two of you are. Crammed inside the closet, face-to-face. More like face to hair, as you are getting quite a lot of her spikey, coarse locks in your mouth and she getting ipstick smeared on a few chunks of curls. The trudging students outside sound like running of the bulls and you think you might be getting a headache. You notice, very suddenly, that the small confines of your hiding place require you to press your body against Vriska’s. You also noticed that Vriska was alarmingly tall compared to your shorter stature, and looking her in the face at this position meant craning your neck. Her eight-fold eye, the one that you punched, is still swollen almost shut but her other eye was wide with excitement. Her irises were still mostly gray. She must have been a late bloomer, because last you had checked your own irises were filling in with rust at each supposed growth spurt. 

Her face was faintly flushed blue with adrenaline, the throng of students still raging outside. Her bony hip is jabbing your rounder midsection like the edge of a 2x4.

The raging of gym students dies down as they exit the gym to pretend to play a passable kickball game outside. You releases a breath you didn’t know that you were holding and Vriska reaches for the doorknob.

The doorknob that shakes with the effort of someone on the other side trying to get in.

Vriska looks at you, the panic on her face clearly showing that she hadn’t planned for this. 

‘Obviously.’ You add on the end of that previous thought.

The knob is turning now and you makee a decision.

You press Vriska Serket against the wall of the janitor’s closet and you kissed her.

You did not say it was a good decision. 

No time for pleasantries, the only option was to go with the snake-consuming-its-victim-whole routine and deepen that kiss, in the hope that the intruding third party will become so overcome with overpowering awkwardness, they will have no choice but to leave. Kiss for your life.

“Shit, AA, could you be a little more dispassionate?”

You tear yourself from Vriska’s mouth, owner of said mouth in question looking like someone had fried her brains.

“Sollux?”

“Seriouthly, are you trying to make out with her or eat her head?” the honey-blooded troll said critically, looking disappointed in your performance, and a slurpee in hand as if to accompany his viewing of the display

You groaned, “We thought you were gonna be somebody else.”

“So this show isn’t for me? I’m hurt.”

“Get out of here, nerd.”

“Rude. We still on for Iron Man 2 at my place? Unless you're, y'know, _busy_.”

“Why is that even a question I need to answer? Specifically, why is it one that I need to answer right now? Yes, now shoo."

Vriska still dumbstruck, Sollux shuts the janitor closet door, miraculously without further comment.

A moment of silence. You notice Vriska’s face has deepened into a cerulean blush. Your red lipgloss leaves a dark mark on her blue-painted mouth.

“So, uh,” You said awkwardly, still pressing Vriska into the wall, “The coast is probably clear.”

Outside, some distance away, you hear Sollux’s muffled voice shout “Go for the tits! Go while you still can!"


End file.
